There Is No Safe, Just Safer
by fandombloggingaddict
Summary: (Makes full sense without having seen Law & Order: SVU) Bender knows the drill at home and how to maintain the control he needs to survive. When his control and something far more precious are stolen from him, the school criminal has to face a lot more than his fears. - Warnings: coarse language, non-con, child abuse, angst.
1. Chapter 1

Bender laid on the floor in his room, trying to ignore the raucous jeering coming from his father's bum friends in the living room. They were all drunk judging by how his father had thrown an empty bottle of liquor at his head when he'd walked in. Now his head was killing him, and he couldn't lie on his mattress because the bedbug-ridden thing had too many springs poking out to be of any help. The bleeding from the shattered bottle had stopped, but now he felt nauseous. He lay on his back, eyes squeezed shut, until the voices seemed to grow closer. The teenager propped himself up on his elbows to listen closer; he sat up abruptly when his door slammed open. His father stormed in, sneering as his son scrambled to his feet. The man lifted his right arm and his fist came crashing down to meet the boy's jaw. John's head shot to the side and by the time he brought it back to face his dad, another punch landed on his temple with such force that he fell to the ground. He spit out blood from the first punch and looked up in anger and bewilderment as a brutal kick with full force behind it met his chest and he growled loudly. Joe Bender practically stomped on his chest, putting his whole weight into it, until his harshest kick made John yell as a rib broke. He tried to move away but his father delivered a vicious kick to his stomach and the teenager grunted forcefully and curled around the injury. Now Joe had access to his back and kicked it along with his legs. When the drunk paused to catch his breath, his son tried to get up with all of his strength, but the pain clouded his mind and his vision spun. Before he could get to his feet, his father grabbed a handful of his long dark hair and tossed him at the wall. John's pummeled back hit it and his dad stomped over before he could fall down. Joe grabbed his son's neck and strangled him with all of his might. He was so strong and so pissed of, John was sure his neck would snap. His lungs burned and the pain of his body was overshadowed by the panic taking over every thought; he couldn't breathe, and his dad wasn't about to let go. In a last-ditch effort, John lifted his leg in an arc and kicked him dad in the crotch. His dad swore and released him immediately so John crumpled to the floor gasping and choking. He got to his knees and eventually rose to his feet, leaning against the wall heavily. Joe was on the floor groaning but he recovered quickly enough to see his son try to stumble toward the door. He reached out and snatched John's ankle, effectively sending him toppling to the ground. Joe stood and brought his heel down on his son's left shoulder, smirking at the sickening _pop _from the dislocation and John's howl of pain. After a few more punches to his son's torso and face, he stood and spat on him, then stormed back out. But John knew from what he heard next that it wasn't over, and he knew why his father had done it this time. Joe's buddies made smug comments as they strutted in after their host's departure. This was all a show for them, and they were ready to join the fun. John had been attacked by some of them before, received a few punches and kicks and bottles thrown at him, but they'd never beaten him as a group. This was going to be the worst beating of his life. John cringed as they came to stand over him and he looked up defiantly. They looked excited. A chill ran down John's back and he couldn't help but swallow in anxiety. What were they going to do?

John was shocked and horrified when two of the men suddenly came down on him and started tearing his clothes off while the other two unzipped their jeans. The teenager struggled against the rough hands to little avail as finally all of his clothes had been ripped off. His breath grew frantic as the first two also unzipped their pants and all of them got undressed. They began to stroke themselves, already semi-hard, and after a minute they were all hard and had the looks of predators on the faces. John tried to move away but they were all extremely fit and one easily grabbed him and flipped him onto his stomach, forcing him onto his hands and knees. John roared in aggravation as two men held him in place while a third stood behind him.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Get the hell off me!" John cried as the man behind him placed something on his ass. It was - fuck - John's eyes widened as the man held his cock at his entrance, grabbed his hips, and forced his way in with one powerful thrust. John screamed, voice hoarse and wrought with anguish and terror as the man pulled back and thrusted all the way in, slamming into him. The boy's naturally darker skin went pale as he was pounded into so harshly. With no preparation of any sort and his resistance, his insides tore as he was brutishly penetrated. John couldn't stop screaming as he bled and tears leaked from his eyes. The man picked up his pace and his nails dug into the teen's skin as he thrusted mercilessly into the tightness. John's cries weren't appreciated by his attackers and the fourth man stepped forward to stand in front of him.

"I'll shut him up," he stated sadistically as he grasped a handful of the boy's hair. John looked him in the eye with every ounce of resolve he had left, determined not to submit. The man narrowed his eyes and threatened, "You bite and you'll pay." He used his other hand to bring his cock to Bender's lips. John shook his head. The man growled and smacked him hard. John kept his mouth shut. Finally the guy pinched John's nose until he couldn't hold his breath any longer and he gasped. The man shoved into the teen's mouth and thrusted, forcing John to deep-throat the offending object. Now he was being penetrated by two men, both harshly pounding into him. John was choking on this man as the other tore him up more. John was so panicked and was being jostled so much that he instinctively bit down. The man yelled in rage and pulled out of John's throat. Bender dragged in air, then cried out as the man inside of him thrusted even more harshly now that his friend had been hurt.

"You'll pay for that, fag!" He nodded to one of his friends. "Why don't we make this a little more exciting?" The other nodded and walked over to stand behind John. The teen gasped the man pushed in along with the first. Two men forced their way inside of him - it was too much. He could feel his insides tearing, there was so much blood and the pain doubled. John couldn't hold in a blood-curdling scream. There was only one man holding him down now, but he couldn't move if he tried. Sensing this, said man stood and moved in front of the boy and stroked himself in preparation, then pushed into his mouth. John could hardly breathe anyway, the agony overwhelming him, and as the man began thrusting into his throat and he couldn't do anything but gag, John's mind shut down and he passed out.

He felt like he'd been unconscious for little more than a few minutes, and they were still thrusting into him. The man he'd bitten was holding him in place. John was disgusted. They didn't care if he was awake for it or not, as long as they could get some. He must have come to as his mind screamed for oxygen, he realized, as he couldn't breathe. He started to struggle and try to pull back his head, and the man in front of him pulled out for a moment to keep him alive. He kneeled in front of the teen as he groaned in despair and torment. He was humiliated and the man sneered at him, gripping John's chin harshly and lifting his hanging head. He looked into John's eyes, glazed over from the overwhelming torture, then laughed at the boy's misery and leaned in.

"Beg me for more like the slut you are."

John looked up at him, a faint glint in his eye. "F-fuck you."

The man shook his head. "Wrong answer." He picked up a pocket knife from his pile of clothes a few feet away and flicked it open, holding it beneath John's right eye. The teen kept his gaze and shivered at the coldblooded disdain in the man's eyes. "Do it, whore." John dragged in a shaky breath and mumbled, "I want more."

"You can do better than that, can't you, bitch?" The blade began to slice into the skin below his eye, too close.

"I w-want you to fuck me, I want it!" John cried out, earning sniggers. The man cocked an eyebrow. "You're pathetic." He dragged the blade down his cheek, cutting deep into the skin, all the way down to the corner of his mouth. "So you never forget."

He stood and left John to let his head fall again. Eventually the men released into him and let him collapse in a heap. He was sprawled on the bloody floor, in far too much pain to move. His vision was blurred and he vaguely saw his father amble in as the others dressed. Joe scoffed and shook his head. "What a skank. Only thing he's good for is a fuck, and now he's just a broken doll. You fags owe me twenty bucks each. Toss him far out back in the woods, let him die. No one'll miss him." With a dismissive wave, Joe Bender left to pass out in the living room. One man grabbed the semi-conscious boy and threw him over a shoulder, ignoring the groan of agony.

"I want compensation for taking out the trash. Y'all go home, I'll take care of this."

The others agreed and left as the man sloppily re-dressed then carried John out the back door and into the cold night.

The man lugged John into the cover of the trees and continued for a few minutes before dropping him unceremoniously. A dry sob escaped the battered teen. The man turned John to lie on his stomach and straddled him, unzipping and pulling down both of their pants.

"N-no, stop it, get the fuck off of me!"

"Shut up before I make you!" The man hissed in annoyance.

"Leave me alone, you already- no, pl-" John stopped abruptly, not willing to plead and surrender his last scrap of dignity. It didn't matter, though, because the guy ripped off one of John's sleeves, balled it up, and shoved it into the teenager's mouth. The school criminal let his head fall to the ground after the cloth was shoved in as an effective gag. He was in way too much pain to try to fight, and what was once more cock? Fucking nothing at this point. He wished that by pretending, he really wouldn't care and might even go numb, like how he doesn't care in school. But it's all an act, and the agony was too real to ignore or shrug off. Once again, the man pushed his length into John, and his muffled scream did nothing to discourage the man from picking up a vicious pace. The torment caused the boy's breathing to grow shallow as he began to hyperventilate. He couldn't breathe again, but this time it was the pure culmination of distressed anguish that made his vision go black and mind go blank and his attacker pounded into him. John Bender fell unconscious for the last time that night.

Consciousness returned to him gradually. He didn't want to return to the waking world where there was only pain and fear, but he had no choice. If he wanted to live, he had to stop being such a fucking pussy and try to escape. When he opened his eyes, though, there was no one around. He was lying on his front, haphazardly re-clothed and sprawled. That man must have flipped him over to force his clothing back on. Did that mean that he thought John would be found, or that he didn't want to be discovered as a rapist if he was found?

There's that word he's been avoiding. Rape. Shit, how did he let it get that far? He should have fought back harder. Or maybe if he hadn't pissed off his dad… But he hadn't. He'd just barged into his room for no reason and started beating him. Why?

_He was making sure I couldn't fight back._ So his father had offered him as a piece of ass for sale to his friends, but first he conditioned him to be attacked. And how much had he said John was worth? "_You fags owe me twenty bucks each."_ So that's how much his own flesh and blood was worth to him. How touching.

John couldn't ignore his injuries any longer. His back arched as waves of agony crashed down on him. His broken bones and deep bruises were so sensitive that his movement made his stomach churn awfully. He turned his head and threw up. Luckily the only blood he saw in it was from the cuts in his mouth courtesy of his dad's fists; it was sheer dumb luck that he didn't have internal bleeding.

He turned his head back to face the sky. It was a little light now: the sun was rising. Tuesday morning. No way he'd be able to go to school for a while. In fact, he'd probably never go again. He was sure he'd die out there, thrown to the ground and abandoned like garbage. As if he was any better than that. He was dumpster trash, just like his dad said. John closed his eyes. He wouldn't give that bastard the satisfaction of victory. John would hate him until his dying day. That asshole wasn't right about shit. He smiled faintly. _At least I'm still a stubborn son of a bitch._


	2. Chapter 2

At first he thought it was his imagination, but John was sure he heard footsteps, quick and evenly paced. Was someone… jogging?

The sound didn't fade, but grew closer until they stopped. There was a pause, then a familiar voice called out, "Who's there?"

John's brows furrowed as he tried to remember who that voice belonged to. They started toward him, and the school criminal could only lie still in anticipation as they approached.

"Are you okay, man?" The guy sounded concerned. Weird. John realized that the man from last night must have accidentally left him near a trail. But what idiot jock ran a trail this early on a school day?

Then it hit him. John opened his eyes to the face of none other than Andrew Clarke.

"Holy shit! Bender?" Andy stepped forward and kneeled next to him, on John's left. He reached out to touch his shoulder but John flinched heavily, his eyes squeezed shut as his injuries were jolted. He really didn't want to puke on the only person that could help him.

"John, what happened to you?" The wrestler noted the gash on his face and the bruises there and on his bare arm. "Why are you here?"

"Just, ya know, passed out after a party. The usual." His sarcasm wasn't as effortless as usual. His words were laced with the struggle to keep himself in check.

Andy could see that his friend was in a lot of pain. John was breathing far too shallowly and he hadn't moved an inch yet; usually he was loud and always moving around, be it to intimidate everyone in sight or to try to get in any girl's pants. He was pale, quiet, and still, and it worried Andy. John's eyes kept scanning the area; it was hard to admit about the seemingly fearless criminal, but Bender looked scared shitless.

"Bender, stop being an idiot, just tell me what happened."

John scoffed softly. "None of your business, Sporto."

"How bad is it?"

John looked away. "I'm fine."

Andy placed his hand on Bender's shoulder to urge him. John's head shot back and the yell he held in came out as a hoarse yelp. The wrestler pulled his hand back instantly and his eyes widened. "Yeah, you look fine. Your shoulder is dislocated. What else are you hiding?"

Once the teen caught his breath, he looked into the jock's eyes. Finally sighing, he figured he could trust the guy, to some extent. "Clarke, I… I need your help."

Andy was shocked again. "What, the school criminal, town burner and loner, needs my help? Where's your tough-guy routine all of a sudden?"

John rolled his eyes. "Can't really afford to be proud at this point, Jock Strap."

Andy sobered up. "Okay. I have to check your injuries, so this is gonna hurt. Try not to move." Bender nodded.

Andy lifted John's shirt until the material was bunched up near his chin. He was sickened by what he saw. It was more bruised than not. There were large areas of ugly black, purple, and blue all over his chest and stomach. The wrestler gently applied pressure to each rib. Judging from his friend's subsequent cries, he gathered that four were broken. "Jesus, Bender, you get hit by a car?"

"Yeah, all the way out here in the forest. You're damn bright."

"Then someone gave you one hell of a beating." He accepted John's silence as confirmation, noticing his split lip and bleeding head. Whoever did this hadn't hesitated to beat the shit out of him. Andy glanced at John's hands. No defensive wounds. Why didn't he fight back?

The jock moved on to John's shoulder. "I have to reset this before it swells too much." He held one hand on each side of the joint. "On the count of three. One!" He forced the bone back into the socket, trying not to cringe at the resulting sound and John's long, rough scream. A few seconds later he was silent, his breath barely there. He looked at Andy who shrugged. "It's better if you aren't anticipating it. Sorry. Anyway, that's the best I can do, but you really need to get to a hospital."

"No doctors. They ask too many questions."

"John, unless you want to die or live in chronic pain your whole life, you need real medical attention _now_."

"Fine. But you can't say anything about what happened."

"How could I when you haven't told me anything?"

"I have to now so you can help me lie to them."

"Why would you want to lie to them?"

John sighed. "Remember that Saturday detention, what I said? I wasn't lying."

A moment passed, then realization dawned on his face. "You mean your _dad _did this to you?!"

"Yeah."

"How could he do this to his own son? What happened?"

"He doesn't give a shit about me as long as I stay out of his way. Except for nights like this, when he's drunk and pissed, and I'm just… there."

"So you're not safe."

"Well right now he thinks I'm dead, so when he gets notified that his beloved son is in the hospital, I'm sure he'll be simply overjoyed."

"What will he do?"

"If I tell the truth, he'll kill me. If I lie to cover him, he might not. It's the best shot I have right now."

"Shit." Andy held a hand over his mouth, dragging it down over his chin then shaking his head. "But can't the police protect you?"

"He only has enough money to buy smokes and beer because he spends the rest of it paying off the local cops for just this situation. No one can touch him."

"Okay, so what happens if you lie, he brings you home, then he does this again? There's got to be a way you can get out of that house."

John shook his head. "You think I haven't thought of that before? I tried to run away once. That time I couldn't walk for a month."

Andrew nodded, realizing there was no way out. "If we pull this off, will you be able to put up with him until I can find a way to help? Will you stay as safe as possible?"

Bender looked up at him, confused by the kid's concern. "I can't fight him."

"Can you do anything to make him calm down?"

John shook his head a little too fervently. "I can't."

Andy sighed. "Come on, let's get you up. It's a long walk back to my dad's pickup."

John averted his gaze, embarrassed. "Uh, I don't think that's gonna happen."

"Why not? A few broken ribs and a bum shoulder are bad, but you should be able to walk well enough."

"Just shut up, Jock Strap, I said it's not happening!" Bender growled.

Andy narrowed his eyes but relented. "Fine. I'll drive it over. Stay still until I get back, okay?"

John grunted in agreement. Once he'd left though, Bender could finally relax, at least a bit. The last time he was taken to the hospital, he'd promised himself he'd never return. He planned to never let it get this far, especially because if someone found out, his dad would beat him to death. No one could stop him. John clenched his fists. He didn't want to die yet! He'd fought so hard for so long, he wanted to live and have a normal life and maybe go for something real with Cherry. But his dad was going to kill him, he thought he'd already succeeded. The truth was that he knew he was going to pay for surviving. His dad would be so mad that he didn't just die, because the doctors would look into his injuries and records and they'd find out and his dad was going to kill him slowly and it would hurt so much-

He was hyperventilating again, his breaths shallow and quick. His lurching gasps made his chest ache and his lungs seemed to seize in distress. He closed his eyes, trying to remember how to breathe, but the pain and the memories haunted him. They were holding him down again, his bones were broken and he was being strangled. What had triggered this? It didn't matter, there wasn't enough air and he was choking and he was going to die. Faintly he heard a car engine but his thoughts were consumed by his mindless panic. There was someone at his side again, they were talking to him, now yelling. John's vision got fuzzy around the edges and he felt like he was tilting and all he knew was that there was no air.

Andy was kneeling next to his friend, trying to get him to calm down before he passed out. The guy's lips were blue at the tips and the wrestler knew he had to get his airways open. He grabbed his friend's wrists and moved them above his head, one hand holding them there and the other covering John's mouth and nose. Bender's eyes widened and he looked even more anxious, but Andy let him breathe after five seconds. After a few gasps he covered his mouth again. He continued this cycle until John was forced to regulate his breathing accordingly. Andy sat back and lowered his head as his friend shuddered in pain and exhaustion. John licked his lips, eyes closed.

"That sucked."

"That was a panic attack. Have you had one before?"

John sighed. "Not in a long time. Dope helps. Without it I can't calm down, and I pass out, and my chest hurts a lot. Happened when Vernon locked me in that closet. I don't like being trapped." He almost kept rambling, but he glanced up and saw that Andy was impatient to get going. "Right. Let's go." The wrestler moved forward and leveraged his arm under John's back to get a good grip.

"Okay, I'm gonna lift you smoothly. Just bring your arms down slowly, wrap your left arm around my neck. Got it? Here we go." Andy put his strength into gingerly lifting his friend's body. John moved his arms and didn't let a sound escape his lips. He tried to put his weight on his legs when Andy had him up, but pain shot up his spine and he had to lean completely on Andy. "Jeez, can't ya take any of your own weight?" The wrestler cried. Bender only growled. He tried again, hating himself for being so weak, and nodded slightly.

"Y-yeah, I think I can, just don't let go, all right?"

Andy cocked an eyebrow. "Sure, hoss." He frowned when he saw the blood that had seeped into John's pants, and paused, immediately looking away.

"What, Jock Strap?"

Andy thought hard for a minute. Could that mean… ? No, it couldn't, that was so…

"Nothing," Clarke muttered before continuing.

It was a short ride to the hospital, but every bump made Bender hiss. Andy focused on the road, ignoring his friend so he could get there faster. When they arrived, the wrestler cursed. How was he going to explain all of this to his dad? And the blood in his cherished truck? Casting those useless thought aside, he turned to the school criminal beside him. John cracked open an eye, glaring at the jock.

"You planning on get out anytime soon, Princess?"

Andy rolled his eyes and got out to help him up, but Bender cringed at the vehicle's slight movement. He was using all of his willpower not to show any more pain and to keep their exchange light - he should never have been so open with the guy. John mentally berated himself for telling him more than he needed to know. He'd even complained to him! What the fuck was it about these kids that made him do that? He had to start clamming up before they knew everything.

Clarke parked directly in front of the ER entrance. He helped John get out and walk, but this time the injured teen leaned on his friend less. His vision swam but he wasn't about to pussy out. Suddenly he tripped and Andy lost his grip completely. Bender fell to his knees and groaned lowly.

"Bender!" The concerned wrestler bent to check on him, but John couldn't ignore the pain any longer. After a few seconds trying to fight it, the battered boy passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

It was half a day until he came to. When he did, his mind was groggy and his body was uncomfortable. The brightness of the pristine white room burned his eyes and his throat was dry. He tried to move his hand to wipe his face, but it wouldn't move. Looking down with eyes glazed over, he saw that he was being held in place by restraints secured around his wrists. His eyes widened shot around the room. There was an annoying beeping sound next to him… a heart monitor. He was in a hospital. No one was around, and he was strapped down. What was going on?

A cute nurse opened the door and walked in, smiling. "Ah, you're awake! The detectives have been waiting for you, as well as your family and friends. I'm sorry to say that you'll have to see the detectives before they can visit. How are you feeling?"

"What the fuck are these for?" He moved his wrists to gesture to the medical cuffs.

She checked some things off on her clipboard before responding. "Your father said you were prone to night terrors, and that you should be restrained until you're cleared to leave."

John was careful not to let any emotion come across his face. So his old man was here, and making sure that he couldn't escape. John nodded and absently glanced out the window to the hallway. Joe was standing just outside the door, staring at him with barely contained loathing. He would have to be especially wary of how he answered the questions on the cops' lips. Just then a woman with brown hair and a man with close-cropped dark hair walked in, the guy closing the door behind them after the nurse left. At least now John could focus on them instead of his father's looming presence.

The woman, followed by her partner, walked to stand next to John's bed. "Hi John, I'm Detective Olivia Benson and this is my partner Elliot Stabler. We're here to ask about what happened to you. Could you tell us how you got so beat up?"

Bender cocked a brow. "What'll I get out of it?" He purposely looked her up and down, then smirked. "Nice catch, Stabler."

Olivia smiled and dipped her head. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, you're a real man. But let me tell ya, you're gonna break that poor Claire's heart."

John shook his head. "She's probably here to put on an act for attention. Typical richie."

"Oh, I don't know about that, she was crying an awful lot. She's worried about you." Elliot raised his eyebrows. "You should be more considerate for a sweet girl like that."

The teenager scoffed and glanced toward the door. _Is she really crying over me?_

Olivia shook her head, knowing the look in his eyes. He wasn't really the asshole he wanted everyone to see. This boy cared. She sighed, hating that she was about to make him rebuild his defenses. She could tell he wasn't going to be very open to sharing.

"John, we need you to explain how you received these injuries. It's important that you're honest." She urged gently.

Bender snarled. "Why are the cops even looking into this? People get beat up around here all the time. It's no big deal."

Elliot crossed his arms. "You have four broken ribs, a previously dislocated shoulder, severe bruising and a split head. I'd say that's a big deal."

John rolled his eyes. "Didn't answer my question, asshat."

Detective Stabler chuckled before Olivia answered. "The doctors here examined you while you were unconscious. We were called in because we work with the Special Victims Unit." Her tone softened slightly. "We know that you were raped."

Bender turned his head away for a moment before turning it back to stare at the ceiling. For once he didn't have a clever comeback. He couldn't say anything, really, without running the risk of saying too much.

"Do you know who did this to you?" She moved on, seeing that he wasn't going to try to deny it. Her brows furrowed when she saw John twisting his hands slightly. He was uncomfortable. "What's wrong? John, look at me." She glanced at her partner when John didn't respond, his eyes now squeezed shut. Olivia for the teen's morphine drip but there wasn't one. "They didn't give him painkillers! Elliot, go get a nurse and find out why. This is ridiculous." She moved to stand next to John. His breaths were too short and quick. "John, it's okay, we're gonna get you some medicine. Just breathe." He didn't seem to hear her. _He's going into shock._ She reached out to hold his uninjured shoulder in a comforting manner, but at her touch he cringed. She stood back. _It's a flashback. Something triggered his memory._ John's back arched and his teeth were clenched. This aggravated his ribs and his fists tightened but he didn't make a sound. His hands were trembling. Olivia couldn't stand to see the boy in such distress and pain; he was supposed to be safe now!

Elliot entered with the nurse. She looked down at the patient sadly. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Bender can't afford the expense of pain medication."

"Won't his insurance cover it?"

"He doesn't have any."

"Then how is the little medical attention he's received paid for?"

"It's purely out-of-pocket expenses. Actually, after 24 hours, we can't accommodate a patient without insurance, so he only has about 11 hours left before he's cleared to leave."

Olivia was enraged, but just then the teen's eyes shot open and he gasped shakily. "D-damn," he muttered. His eyes were still tight from the pain but he was aware of his surroundings again.

"What'd I miss?"

Olivia shook her head in wonder and horror. This kid was in a tremendous amount of pain but he managed to keep his humor, no matter how wry. She thought back on why John would have been triggered. There was the pain, of course, and shock was already a threat, but there was something…

"Just a few more questions, then you can see your friends. Do you get night terrors?"

"Uh, sure… guess you could say that."

"Have you ever had a panic attack before?"

"Yeah." John confirmed solemnly.

"And have you ever played any sports?"

John looked confused and slightly offended. "No."

Detective Benson nodded. "Thanks. We'll come back later, and then you have to tell us what happened, okay?"

Bender rolled his eyes, earning one last knowing smirk from Detective Stabler. Elliot used to be just as snarky as this kid.

Once they'd left the room, Joe Bender stepped inside, subtly pulling down the narrow shade for the door's window. Olivia watched in apprehension. "Elliot, something's going on."

"Tell me about it. That kid's hiding something."

"He seemed like he'd never heard of night terrors, he just assumed I meant nightmares, so he hasn't been diagnosed for them. If he's so sure that he's had panic attacks, he shouldn't be in restraints. His father either doesn't know the whole story, or he wants his son to be retrained for some other reason. "

"And what about the question on sports?"

"With his injuries, he should have shown a lot more pain. He's got a high tolerance for it, and if it's not from sports injuries, how else could it have been built up for so long?"

John's doctor came up to them. "Here are the x-rays you requested Detective."

"Thanks," she said. She set the file on a nearby chair and held up the x-rays of John's chest and one arm. "Damn," she sighed. "Look at this. His ribs have been broken and reset at least a dozen times. This arm's been broken several times."

Elliot looked at the other sheets. "God, it looks like a game of pick up sticks. You think his father did this?"

"Who else? They live alone and John doesn't seem like the sociable type. Not that I blame him. Here's where I'm stuck. With the damage he sustained, he must've been raped by at least two men, probably more. We can't find them unless the DNA gets a hit or John tells us."

"I don't think he could even if he wanted to. His father hasn't left his post at his door, and now he's alone with him. It's all circumstantial until we can learn more. What can we do?"

Olivia strode to the exit. "I'm gonna go find out."

Elliot knew she was headed to talk to the DA, but he decided to talk to John's friends instead of following his partner. They had to know something that could help.


	4. Chapter 4

John watched his father enter the room and close the shades. Joe strode over to his bedside and stood over him. "You should've died, maggot. What did you tell them?"

John shook his head; his heart was beating quickly but his lungs didn't seem to be taking in enough air. "Nothing, I didn't-"

Joe cut off his son by slamming his fist down on the most bruised area of John's chest, where two consecutive ribs were snapped. The teen bit his lip and held in his scream, tossing his head back as it felt like his chest was being crushed. His eyes watered from the overwhelming agony as his dad removed his hand then leaned close to his son. "Don't lie to me punk."

Bender's breathing was ragged but he tried again. "I didn't answer them, I won't say anything."

Joe snarled. "That's not enough. They might already be suspicious. You'd better be prepared to lie your ass off. Because if you can't pull this off…" He grabbed his son's neck with one hand and squeezed, cutting off his air. John could only stare as his father crushed his throat. Joe's eyes narrowed. "I'll make sure you die slowly and in pain worse than you've ever felt. This is nothing. You're gonna pay either way, but if you cover my tracks, I might let you live." John couldn't stand the suffocation any longer. He began to writhe instinctively. "Oh, you want to breathe? Apologize for this mess you've made."

The teen's eyes widened and every fiber of his being wanted to refuse, but he knew that would be enough reason for his dad to kill him right now. He opened his mouth but no matter how hard he tried to form words, he didn't have the air to do it. He gritted his teeth and lifted his head to try to gain some leniency, but his father's steel grip remained. John was panicking now, his chest trembling and lungs burning. Joe laughed at the sight of his son's struggle. Finally John gathered enough energy and forced the air from his lungs in his last-ditch attempt to speak. "I-I'm sorry d-dad," he choked out in a strained voice. Joe grunted and released his grip, walking from his coughing and wheezing son.

"F-fuck you." John's mumble rang out in the silence between them. With a growl the man spun around and stormed back.

"How do you like the cuffs, fag? And how about the pain? Because I suggested you be restrained and I've refused to pay for painkillers. Imagine what else I could do to you under those idiots' noses. You want to get fucked? How would you like a visit from one of my friends? He knows just how to play the system to his advantage, and as a reward for his help in getting you back under my control, I think I'll lend your services to him for a full day. That sound like fun, you free-loading whore?"

John flinched as Joe spit out the last word in disgust. He watched him storm to the door, pause to open it, then stroll out as if all was well. He leaned his head back and groaned in anguish. This time his smart-ass comment earned him more than a detention or a punch; he was going to be tortured for 24 hours, then his dad would probably beat him to death. There was no way out of his hell.

The moment Joe Bender left the hospital room, the four teenagers headed to visit their friend. They were stopped by the agent who had talked to them before John woke up. They hadn't shared anything, having been warned by Andy. Now they were about to talk to the friend they'd been worrying about for hours, and now the detective was in their way.

"Hey guys, I have just a few questions before you talk to-" Stabler was cut off by the boy whose vocabulary had impressed him earlier.

"All due respect, Detective, but we've been waiting to see our friend for long enough. We need to know if he's okay, and the doctor's notes and your consolations aren't enough. See, we're all John's friends, we know him, we care about him. So right now, all that matters is that he's waiting for us, and we're not going to be delayed by anything else." With that he abruptly turned and entered the room, followed by the others. Elliot blinked, impressed but now left with as little information as be started out with.

The group of friends walked into John's room and froze as soon as they'd closed the door and looked at the school criminal. They saw the stitched gash on his cheek, his bruised face, his bruised arms, his heavily bruised neck… so much of his skin was black and blue and purple that they almost thought he could've been hit by a car. There were restraints securing his wrists to the bedpost; Brian, knowledgeable in medical procedures, instantly recognized the lack of a morphine drip. He frowned, not alone as the others also saw John's expression. His head was tilted back and his face was contorted in pain. He didn't seem to have heard the quiet door. The others were speechless and worried. Andy was the first one to step forward, being the only one that had seen John in this condition yet.

"Hey, it's us. We're here to see how you're doing."

Bender immediately put on a neutral expression and lowered his head. They could still see the stress in the tightness of his eyes.

"Go away. I don't want your pity." His voice was hoarse.

"We don't pity you, John, we're worried about you." Brian spoke with confidence.

Claire slowly walked to the battered boy's bedside. He watched her face the whole time.

"Are you okay?" She asked softly.

Bender's gaze softened. "I'm alive."

She lowered her head. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't you dare cry for me, Cherry."

"Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you try to get help?"

"There's nothing I can do."

"That's just an excuse and you know it! These detectives are smart, and caring. Why don't you just tell them what happened? They can protect you, you can be safe! You have to, John!"

He looked to the others. "What did you tell them?"

"Nothing," Brian said. "Andy explained your situation."

John nodded gingerly. "Good. Keep it that way. I have to lie so I can get out of here."

"But why lie? John, please, just tell them!" Claire cried.

"I can't!" John grounded out, then sighed. "Listen, I've made it this far. I know how I have to play this. It's nothing new."

Claire left crying. Brian went to comfort her with one last glance to John. It made Brian feel sick to see his friend in this condition: he'd be better off consoling Claire.

Bender found himself alone with the jock and the basketcase. Andy saw that Allison was pale and he moved to hold her hand. The school criminal was prepared to be annoyed, sure that the sanctimonious jock would try to convince him to ask for help like some kind of scared little kid, but Andy just sighed.

"So, burner, what do you need to get out of this?"

Allison nodded, a snarky yet humble smirk spreading. "Yeah, anything you need, we got it. I am _so _ready to lie to the g-man. I'll have fun leaving him spinning."

John paused, then tilted his head back, letting his tense muscles slowly relax. This might actually work.


End file.
